Spring Awakening
by Pashleyy
Summary: Sequel to Engel's Zimmer:: Haru thought it was over. She thought he was finally hers. But revenge is sweet and crushing, and sometimes love doesn't conquer all.
1. Carpe Diem

**NOTICE:** The original first and second chapters of _Become the Wind_ -- which is now _Spring Awakening_ -- are hereby scrapped. Sorry for the short-notice, but I didn't really care for the first or second chapters, and I found a way around a gaping plot hole that I before didn't see a way around... and here it is! So this is the true first chapter of the sequel to _Engel's Zimmer_.

Thank you everyone for your cooperation! I really want to make the sequel as good as the first, and the first two chapters of Become the Wind didn't really flow with the mood of _Engel's Zimmer_.

So...

Tripple snuckle brownies for everyone for putting up with my slow updates and chapter changes! Love you all!

* * *

**Spring Awakening**  
Chapter 1_ - Carpe Diem_

"You better hurry up or you'll miss the dance," Muta sneered and stretched himself out on the pink comforter.

Haru flicked a pair of underwear at the lazy cat and stuck out her tongue, having spent the last thirty minutes putting on her make-up. She inspected herself in her vanity, every hair in place, every speck of powder smooth upon her cheeks. Her hands shook with nerves. It was the first dance since Death's Waltz, but that wasn't why she was nervous. The hormonal teenager inside of her way the one shaking like a leaf, desperately hoping she looked perfect enough. She hoped Muta hadn't noticed her quivering. He wasn't very observant that way.

"How're you gonna walk in those things?" the fat cat swiped a paw at her silver four-inch heels lying desolate beside her closet. "Why not wear flats? You'll fall flat on your face, you know."

She pouted. "Will not. Besides," she sniffed indignantly, "Baron's a good half a foot taller. I look like a _complete_ shrimp beside him if I don't wear heels!"

"Or is it that the angle you look up at him impairs your kisses?" He made kissing noises and began to mock her in a high falsetto, "Oh, this is _sooo_ unromantic! I'm looking up at your nose hairs! My neck's beginning to hurt. Why're you so tall --" and earned a green and pink polka-dotted panty in the face.

"You're a rotten thing, you know that?" Haru began to blush and quickly slapped her cheeks to keep herself in line. And still, her hands shook. "No angel food cake for you."

Muta's eyes bulged. "WHAT?"

"You heard me!" She stood, pulling her dark blue dress above her ankles so she wouldn't trip on it again, and made her way over to her silver shoes. "Besides, Shizuku picked these out. You have to admit they _do_ look nice."

"If you like to pretend you're a model, sure."

"Muta!"

"What?"

"Muta," another voice joined their squabble, "it's not nice to harass my date."

"Baron!" Haru spun towards the door, tripped on her own dress, and gave out a startled yelp before inevitably falling. Strong arms caught her before she did a complete face plant, and set her back on her feet steadily. She clutched on to his black tuxedo, muttering indignantly curses on the frivolity of dresses.

Baron gave a hardy laugh and tucked a stray tress of nutmeg hair behind her ear. "You look lovely, Haru... Maybe you should take Muta's advice for once. If you can't stand on your own two feet as it is, how will you ever manage in heels?"

She began to blush a deep red.

"But they _do_ look nice, and she is too pretty," he gave Muta a playful glare, "to be goggled at like a model."

Haru's face could have been mistaken for a tomato.

"And the dress," he wrapped his arms around her midsection and brought her into his chest. His heart beat under her hands, and the tuxedo was electrifyingly warm to her fingertips. She had to crane her neck to look up, but she managed, sure she was as red as a beetroot by then. He was quite tall for a former foot-high figurine. Rivaling six foot, and most Japanese girls were quite miniature. No wonder she felt like a midget. "The dress looks ravishing," he told her sincerely.

"Um... ah... thanks," she squeaked, her hands shaking so much she had to clamp on to his tuxedo to keep him from noticing. "Shizuku and I picked it out a long long long time ago. I didn't think I'd need it so I didn't buy it then..." she downcast her eyes, remembering quite well that day a month ago. The day she decided to search out Barron Humbert von Jikkigen. And now he was here -- living so close she could hear his heartbeat. "Good thing the store still had it, huh?"

"It'd be a shame if you had to rent a tuxedo like me," he joked warmly and kissed her forehead. "Now cheer up, stop shaking --" her hands suddenly flew away from his tux, her cheeks reddening again from embarrassment "-- and most importantly, relax. Everything will be fine. I promise."

"Nothing ever goes fine," she muttered and turned away from him, carefully slipping over to don her heels.

Baron sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, "What's the worse that could happen?"

"Um, let's think," she gave a brief, dramatic pause while fitting on her first heel, "Death could stop by."

"Unlikely," he remarked.

"Louise could rise from the dead."

"Pah," he scoffed.

"The taxi could go flying off the road into a park, through the trees, and skewer us all."

He gave her blank look. "Never thought of that."

"Or," she pressed after squeezing her foot into the other heel, "during the first song I could trip, fall, break my heel, and be looking _waaaay_ up at you all night long."

"I'm not that tall," he replied indignantly and folded his arms over his chest. "And just for the record, I'll catch you if you fall. I always will." He stepped over the dirty clothes lying across the floor to reach her, and bent down a little to stare eye-level into her chocolate eyes. "Just for the record."

Then he kissed her on the nose and grabbed her hand. She gave a yelp of protest, grabbed her silver purse (which matched her shoes perfectly) and stumbled along after him. On the first stair step, she knew that heels weren't such a good idea after all.

"Um, Baron, I don't think --" the edge of her foot slipped off the landing, and she plummeted forwards, taking even the mangy-haired man by surprise. He scuttled to catch her, managed, but was hit by her flailing silver purse and lost his balance with her. With an indignant scream, he followed her down until they lay in a heap of mangled jewelry, blue silk, and tuxedo at the bottom of the stairs.

Haru managed to sit up, and gave a pout. Baron struggled up beside her, and rubbed the side of his head where he had hit the railing.

"What was that about catching me when I fall?" Haru jibbed.

"I was not expecting it so soon," he muttered darkly and winced as his hands felt under his shaggy hair for the rising lump. "Bloody ow," he winced, catching her attention.

She knelt up and filed through his glossy orange hair to find a good-sized bruise swelling up. Her heart dipped into her stomach. Great. Of all the nights her klutziness would reign, it had to be the night of the Spring Fling.

He winced when she set her fingers on it, and found Haru's face creased into a frown. A spark in him hated to see her frown. She looked so beautiful tonight, a frown should not have been even thought of on her face. Gently, he took her wrist and migrated her attention away from his bruise, and leaned over to kiss her neck. "Don't worry. I'm fine."

"But that's a nasty-looking --"

"'Tis only a flesh wound," he managed before kissing her neck again. Instinctively, she bent into him and wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed his temple. He twined his fingers into her falling hair and proceeded to push her shoulder strap off her shoulder when a shadow fell upon them. He froze.

Toto sighed in the doorway. "You know," he thrummed his fingers against the doorway, "if I didn't know better I would have to say that you two are utter teenage hopeless at its best."

Slowly, Baron and Haru leaned away from each other awkwardly.

From the top of the steps, Muta gave a catty laugh. "And we thought Baron was the responsible one! Boy were we ever wrong."

Toto agreed. "He was the level-headed one."

"The posh-Cary-Elwes-calm one."

"The smooth I-Can't-Believe-It's-Not-Butter one."

"The --"

"Alright!" Baron snapped. "Alright!" He stood in one swift motion, body tense and hands fisted. "You try living in the hormonally-wishy-washy body of a nineteen-year-old and you see how it is!" He aimed a short glare at Toto, grit his teeth so that he couldn't say anything more, and pushed past Toto into the kitchen. The back door slammed with a deafening thwack.

Toto and Muta winced. Haru looked embarrassingly into her lap, and frowned. The raven-haired man cast a look up the steps to the calico cat, and rubbed the bristles on his chin worriedly.

The fat cat began making his way down the steps, "Jeez, and you'd think he'd like to be young and in the throws of love."

"I think his ego's getting the best of him."

Haru looked up at her soon-to-be stepfather in a daze of bafflement. "What do you mean?" She knew Baron had been acting a bit weird lately -- almost bipolar it seemed -- but she reckoned it was just him adjusting. I'd never thought about his age, she thought worriedly. How old _is_ he? "He doesn't..." her words caught like claws in her throat, "...doesn't want to be..."

"No-No-No!" Toto waved his hands around frantically. "Nothing like that I don't think... but one does have to wonder, you know."

"Wonder about what?"

"To know here how you're supposed to be acting," he tapped his head, "but act from here instead." He then tapped his chest and gave a crow-like shrug. "He's never had to worry about things like hormones. Hell, I don't have to worry too often. And I'm as old as hell."

"So he wants to be older? Like you?" Haru pulled her shoulder strap back up and managed to get to her feet on her own. "Is he older than you?"

"Not in the least," he shook his head. "I'm at least a century older. But he _is_ old enough to be your grandfather, you know."

Haru rubbed her neck where he had kissed her. The skin still tingled. "Really?" She'd never thought about their age often, probably because they were once figurines. Figurines didn't have birthdays, she reckoned, but then she realized they most certainly did. "So Baron's not his age?"

"Nope."

"And he wants to be?" But then that would mean he... that would mean he would be much older than her. And even in today's lenient society, she doubted something like that would fly. She gulped the worry down again and shook those thoughts away. Nineteen or nine-hundred. It didn't matter how old Baron really was. She'd cross her fingers and hope for the best. "Nevermind," she stopped Toto from answering, "It doesn't matter."

Gathering her dress, and set out the back door after Baron with a steel determination.

Toto and Muta watched her leave, and only then did Toto dawn a smile. "You know," he told the fat cat, "I don't think Baron should worry."

"Pah," the cat scoffed. "You think?"

"Yes. I do." He watched as his old friend came lumbering down the stairs and rested at his feet. "This is just another bump in the road. They'll get through it."

"And since when have you become wise, birdbrain?" Muta sniffed and curled up into a ball at his feet.

A distant look crossed the old birdbrain's eyes. He didn't answer, but then again he didn't need to. Muta already knew the answer even if he didn't want to admit it. Toto stooped to his old-time friend, scooped him up in his arms, and carried him into the quilt room where Mrs. Yoshioka fitted a pattern together. He kissed her cheek lovingly, for she was too deep into her work to be bothered, and sat in an empty chair to watch as she thrummed her fingers on the desk, rocked back and forth, and thought, unaware he had even stepped into the room. He watched silently, holding the lazy Muta in his arms, and knew almost exactly how Baron felt.

Which was why he had to kid Baron for it, or else he would think too much into all this humanity too.

"That's a lovely pair," the sandy-haired woman muttered, fitting two pieces of design together, and began to hum.

**--**

"Baron -- Baron stop please!" Haru called after the mangy-haired young man. She followed him across the clean-cut lawn to the front gate where he stopped and cocked his head a little. When she finally caught up to him, she wrapped her hands around his and put her face into his chest. He stiffened slightly. "Nineteen or ninety, I don't care," she said defiantly. "I don't care."

He didn't respond.

"I don't. And even if I did, what does it matter? I'm yours. You're mine." She pressed her head further into his chest, and squeezed his hands tightly. "I'm yours," she repeated. "I'll always be yours."

Still, he stood as still as a statuette. Silent.

"And just for the record," she finally said, and looked up into his glowing green eyes, and found the cat-like reflection behind them. The wit, the cunning, the predator. The oval slits that would always remind her that he would never exactly be human. She bent up, and kissed his human lips, and loved them just as she loved his eyes. "I'll love you no matter who or what you are."

And then he smiled, baring strikingly white teeth, more point that edge, more blade than blunt. More cat than mouse. "Nineteen or ninety, eh?"

She nodded decisively.

"We'll see," he bent and briefly kissed her on the lips to show his restraint, and cupped her hands into his instead. "We'd better hurry," he changed the subject, "before we are late for the ball."

"The magic's over at midnight," she chided.

He led her out of the garden gate onto the sidewalk, and wanted nothing more than to kiss her again, but restrained himself. He would surely master his emotions. It couldn't be that hard. "Not tonight," he whispered into her ear.

And from the far corner of the street under the stark streetlight stood a woman, poised and rigid, as if the hairs on her body were standing on edge. She bared her gleaming teeth and narrowed her glowing green eyes.

Baron felt her stare and quickly glanced over his shoulder, but the woman was gone.

"What is it?" Haru asked.

"Just some jitters," he dismissed airily. "I'm not looking forward to your modern dancing. No waltzes?"

"Nope."

"Then how do you dance?"

"I'll teach you." Haru smiled as a horn blared at the street corner. A taxi waited, Hiromi hanging out the window in a beautiful lily-colored dress, waving frantically at the slow couple. Her date sat beside her, conversing with the driver who seemed a little annoyed by his date's loudness.

"Hey!" Hiromi yelled. "Hurry up! Or we'll miss all the good food!"

Haru hid a fit of giggles and played along, pulling her date impatiently towards the taxi. "Hurry hurry!" she laughed. "Or we'll miss the crumpets!"

Her smile proved to be contagious, for only moments after Baron had decided to act responsible, mature, and quite like himself, he began to laugh and let her pull him towards the taxi. "Carpe Diem," he muttered to himself, and threw his maturity to the spring wind. He raced around Haru, scooped her up in his arms, and carried her, laughing and kicking, to the taxi.

"Lemme go! Lemme go!" Haru yelled and playfully bit his ear. "I'll tear your ear off if you don't let me go!"

He jostled her into submission. "You'll fall flat on your face," he replied breathlessly, and forced her into the taxi. "And that would be a shame."

Hiromi took hold of her friend by the waist and pulled her inside so Baron could squeeze in, and shut the door. They were packed like sardines into the small cab, but the closeness didn't matter. They were too breathless to realize, and too numb with laughter to feel any cramp whatsoever.

"Jeez, I thought you slow pokes would never make it! What took you so long?" She lounged back on Tsuge and playfully rubbed his short hair.

Haru and Baron exchanged a look. "We were falling down stairs," Haru said with an air of dignity.

"Very gracefully, I might add," Baron added.

"Psh, yeah right," Tsuge rolled his eyes. "Just admit it, you were looking for condoms."

Hiromi knocked her boyfriend upside the head and apologized for his rudeness as the taxi drove away with the four teens (two squirming in embarrassment) squeezed inside, towards a Spring Fling that wouldn't last forever. That wouldn't be filled with perfect souls. It was a dance for teenagers who weren't perfect, who didn't know their places in life yet, and who didn't fit in with society yet. But it was a dance nonetheless.

A dance of Life, instead of one of Death.

Glowing green eyes watched as the taxi drove away. She watched with an untamable hatred, with a fury to match the wild tsunamis. She watched in patience, and began to plan.

Baron had shown her a fatal flaw. A flaw like those eyes of his. Eyes that were also hers, for their creator created them together.

"Carpe Diem," she muttered and turned out of the streetlight, down the darkened road. "Seize the day."

* * *

Was it better than the other one?

_Continue or No?_

* * *


	2. the Crossroads

Chapter Two, ahoy! Chugging away -- slowly but surely -- at this story! I think I'm getting the hang of this updating thing too. What say you? Oh! And if you haven't heard, I've switched the sequel up a bit. If you haven't already, go back and reread the first chapter, and you might be in for a surprise!

Speaking of surprises... it's a dance!

Holy Cheesecakes, Batman!

* * *

Chapter 2  
_the Crossroads_

"Wow," Hiromi marveled as Tsuge helped her out of the taxi, "so this is what recycled Christmas lights are used for." Her boyfriend quirked a grin and kissed her cheek lovingly.

"You are such an oddball," he replied, and received a curt peck on the lips in return.

"And that is why you love me."

"Hell yeah."

Baron scooted out after Hiromi, and held out a delicate hand to Haru, who carefully placed her heels on the concrete and accepted his hand. He pulled her to her feet, and closed the taxi behind them. Haru hadn't noticed the beauty of the school gym decorated with white Christmas lights, or the light blue ribbons that swirled down from the roof like long winding strands of hair. She was much too occupied with keeping herself upright, keeping her fluttery dress down, and at the moment she wasn't quite sure she could manage.

"You're doing fine," Baron whispered into her ear, a hot cinnamon scented voice that sent shivers down her spine, and looped her arm in his. "Leave the difficulties to me."

Hiromi had worn flats, and she was already practically dancing around Tsuge in excitement, her dress a swirl of cotton-candy pink and white piping. "OhmyGod! This is so amazing!" She gasped and pointed at a photographer, "And the newspaper team is here! And the yearbook staff! Look Tsuge! It's Principal Takahashi!… Ew, is that _suede_ he's wearing? OK, minus ten points _totally_."

The brunette couldn't help but to hide a grin as Tsuge and her best friend debated over whether Principal Takahashi lost fifteen more points for the coke-bottle glasses, or if he was rocking with the retro-activity of the 21st century. Hiromi, after all the years Haru had known her, never once complained. She was the pillar. The foundation. The burly DIY who could spit into a bucket twenty feet away. If Hiromi hadn't of been there through her unconventional love affair, then Haru would've been quite lost.

It was always nice to have a best friend to lean on.

And it was shocking that it took Haru, standing in the clear spring wind, the small fingers of spring leafing through the curls of her hair, so long to figure that out.

"What're we standing around here for?" Hiromi gave her boyfriend a tug on the arm. "Let's go dance our calories away! I'm feeling preggo from all that Italian!" And she and Tsuge disappeared into the claptrap of gym doors that ate victim after unwilling victim into dark pounding dance music.

Couples moved around Baron and his Haru like water around a miscreant pebble. They stood stiffly outside of the towering gym, hand in hand, and realized at about the same time that this dance would not hold any sort of death. And that, unlike the last, they could quit at any time, and leave for a glass of fruit punch. Which, to Baron, was a relief in itself.

To Haru, it felt like the beginning of something. Of what, she wasn't sure.

Baron let out a long breath, "So this is the type of dances you are accustom to?"

"Not really. I've only been to one school dance before. In sixth grade."

"Then how do you know how to waltz?" He referred to the time, eons ago, when they waltzed hand-in-hand before the Cat King and his court.

"My Dad," she muttered, tracing the contours of her twine and coral necklace absently. "A long time ago."

"Your father?"

The mention of Haru's father had never come up into conversation before. It was a land neither of them had tread into, like a sacred burial ground where no footprints were allowed. Not even Haru's. If she thought too much into it, she could still remember the old oaken smell of the ballet studio, and her father's warm sawdust grip. She could remember when he twirled her, and waltzed her across the gleaming hardwood floor on his toes, countless mirrors sparkling in the evening orange.

It was a pang in her gut that made her want to forget.

"He died," she finally said simply, and spread a fake smile over her lips. She had become good at lying lately, she realized in an all-too-unhealthy conclusion.

He nodded, and gripped her hand tightly. His hand, gloved and white, felt warm in her still, and it was his the sheer warmth that made her heart flutter like a thousand butterflies erupting from a cocoon. "Come then," he said, "and let us not talk of these sad things."

"I agree," she replied, and let her Baron lead them into into the gymnasium.

**-- -- --**

Louise sat at _La Café de Lune_ at the Crossroads, and stirred her tea in tedium. She stifled a yawn with a delicately manicured hand, and checked the clock tower that stood in the center of the square. He was late -- again.

She checked her reflection in her rosy compact she pulled from her purse, and brushed a lock of platinum blonde hair out of her face. She relined her lush lips with rose lipstick, and watched a charming waiter deliver a coffee to a middle-aged man with a balding head and thick glasses. She snapped her fingers, and the waiter came over quickly.

"Yes, madam?" he asked in a flourishing bow. He was dazzled by her, and it showed on his young, pure face like thunder.

"My tea is a bit strong."

"Grey Earl is strong, madam," he replied sheepishly. "Would you like to try our signature green tea instead?"

"Green tea? Sounds ghastly!" she swatted him away, appalled. "No thank you."

He drooped, hugged his serving platter to his chest. "Well... we have some fine coffees too, madam." But when she wrinkled her nose, he bowed in apology, and told her he would bring out the cafe's finest hot pastry free of charge for her inconvenience. Which made Louise smile all the more, and giggle to herself. Why hadn't she realized being human was this much fun? Toying with the waiters was one of her topmost pleasures.

A dark-clad figure sat down opposite her in the wrought iron chair. "You're late," she droned mildly, and checked her mascara when the waiter was gone.

"Oh, forgive such an elderly man," he replied lazily.

A sly smile wound its way like a serpent onto her beautiful, lush lips and leered at him disapprovingly. Which made him want to disappoint her more by the sheer beauty of that leer. Death had to admit, she looked stunning as a human. Very nice handy work. He would have to contact the craftsman who created her and ask him who he sold his soul to to make such unearthly things. "Ah, what is late to Death?" he replied airily. "I had to reap an epidemic in South Africa, thank you."

Louise rolled her eyes and snapped closed the compact. "Yes yes, and last time it was a genocide, right?"

"Those are tricky," he argued but she cut him off with a swift and silent icy glare. Her eyes, in all their sharp and gloss, were a stunning emerald just like Baron's, and shimmered about the same.

Death knew that the artisan must have sold his soul. An Engel's Zimmer in one creation was impossible, but such a beauty in another? That was simply unfair.

"Oh cry me a river, Reaper," she delicately sipped her tea.

"I don't cry."

"Tell Haru that."

Death's eyes flared with anger. "Watch your tongue, wench."

"Ooh, did I hit a hard spot?"

"Not in the slightest." But oh, she had, and she knew it by the feral gleam in his eyes. Death fell back in his chair, and steepled his fingers. "Why have you called me here, Louise?"

"Because I have found Baron's weakness."

"Oh?" Death asked unimpressed.

Louise nodded. "Haru."

"Oh, wow!" he threw his hands up dramatically. "Did that take brain surgery to figure out?"

She scowled. "His feelings for her, you fool! Not her, per say, but she's…changing him." Her voice faltered slightly. "He's not…not Baron. Not my beautiful, perfect Baron."

"Um, duh. Because he's human. Thanks to me, I might add," and he beamed at his handywork. "And isn't he simply _stunning_? -- not as stunning as you of course, but stunning nonetheless?"

She sighed and sipped at her tea again. "Oh, you buffoon, can you shut up for a moment and think? He's losing himself. He's falling whim to his…his…"

"Body? Emotions? Affections?…Lust?" The edges of Death's lips twitched, and in that moment Louise pieced together what Death had planned all along. She should have known that it was sheer stupidity to think Death would let Haru and Baron live Happily Ever After, and for Death himself to grant Baron his humanity, at that! Oh, the sly devil.

She gave a curling smile, "You planned everything out, haven't you?"

"I have been around for over five millennia. You can't honestly assume that I haven't picked up on a few tricks." He modestly shrugged, and sat straighter in his wrought iron chair. Haru was a fool to think that he would give up so easily. Humans had never beaten him before, and Haru -- even though in all rightfulness she should have -- had yet to beat him. "This is your cue, honey, to take some advantage. He's male. He's in his prime. He's -- quite bluntly -- lusting for some affection. The seven deadly sins are abound. Catch them while you can, dear."

"You…You've made it easy for me!" she accused, offended.

"No, darling," and he walked around the table and brushed his fingers along her delicate cheekbones, his smile as charming as a crocodile, "I've just set things in motion for you." With a kiss on her perfect lips, he blinked away into nothing, leaving her alone in the crisp spring night.

After a while, the waiter brought her a small platter of strawberry cheesecake, which she adored, and slipped away quietly into the night. Without paying her bill.

* * *

Well, I certainly hope someone picks up that tab!

_Continue or No?_


	3. Crush on You

Hallo, hallo my beautiful bbs! How are y'all? I'm doing beautifully. On my Fall Break, and just decided to sit down and write a few chapters. There was a longer 3rd chapter, but I decided to split it up for your reading pleasure. I mean, we need a chapters just for Baron and Haru, don't we? We do, and here it is!

Oh, and here's a question for you:

What's your favorite Cat Returns AMV?

Anywho,

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 3  
_Crush On You_

Haru truly laughed for the first time in years that night at the Spring Fling, and raised her arms above her head in glee to show it. She twirled in the mass of gowns and tuxedos, the music loud and blaring and alive. The lights streamed yellows and reds and blues all over the starry-skied dance floor, twisting and moving in some melodic, off-beat rhythm that pulsed through the floor like living lava. Her dress sparkled, her hair fell down in ringlets. She was beautiful. She was so beautiful that night.

Hiromi and Tsuge jived close to her, their arms looped around each other as they spun and danced and kissed and spun again. They rotated, like their earth orbiting Haru's sun, and somehow that made Baron uneasy.

He wasn't used to the blaring music—the live feeds thundering from the stereos mounted on the stage. He wasn't used to the bright lights, and found himself almost lost in the dark a few times.

That was, until Haru grabbed his hands and brought him close—so close he could smell her whispy perfume, and feel her hot breath on his neck—and put his arms on her shoulders like so. Her smile could've out-shined the disco ball above them. "Relax, Baron, will you?"

"I am," he assured her. "But this…it's loud. And obnoxious. And people keep—" he was hit in the ribs by an elbow, and winced "—elbowing me," he finished lamely. "Isn't there an order to it?"

"Sure there is!" she shouted over the bass. "You're just going against the current. See, watch and learn young grasshopper!" She winked and told him to put his hands around her waist, and he did, and she looped her arms around her neck. She was slim in his hands, and so frail. And so, so beautiful. "OK, so do you feel the beat?"

"It's too loud," he grumbled.

"It's not loud enough!" was her reply as she kissed him adoringly in the lips, and whispered into his ear, "It's a heartbeat. Do you hear it? _Thump—Thump—Thump_..."

There was only noise in his ears; Haru's breath, and a rushing thundering sound that didn't sound like music at all. But then, as he listened, he heard the beat—like a heart. Thumping. Not unlike a drum, or a waltz. He realized that he had only danced with her once before, and under very different circumstances. He remembered, and back then she still felt fail under his hands. That had not changed. He remembered the waltz, and the steps, and then it clicked.

"_Thump—Thump—Thump—Thump.._."

Then...

Thump. Thump. Thu-Thump.

And then there was a heartbeat—two—synced together.

He led, and she followed, and then they were dancing under a starry-eyed disco ball, twirling together and moving together, as if they were exact mirrors, or extensions of themselves. Stepped with each other's heartbeat, and twirled with each other's breath. They kissed with each other's lips and loved the seconds, or hours, or years, that their eyes were staring into each other's, unable to stray away from something so magnificent, it felt like an entire lifetime.

_Maybe this is my lifetime_, thought Haru as they danced. _He is.  
_

And at the same time, Baron thought:

_Is this my life now?_ For he saw years and years in her chocolate-hazel eyes, both good and bad, growing older and grayer and closer to death. When he was a figurine, Death was a being, but in her eyes death was also a fear, and a final destination. _This is my life now._

He didn't know whether to be happy, or sad, or frightened.

Maybe it would be lenient, and he would go silently in fifty years' time. Maybe they would go together.

_But what if she dies before I do?_

_What do I live for then?_

Haru coughed, and stumbled. He caughter her, and then she smiled again. "Choked on my spit," she laughed. "Guess I'm getting too old, huh?"

"I won't let you," he said before he could stop himself, and she gave him a confused look amid the glamour of grinding dresses and thrusting tuxedos.

"Huh?" she asked.

"Nothing. I—I was thinking."

"About what?"

They began to dance again, this time slowly, swaying from side to side like an old married couple.

"Things." Baron was ashamed to say of what, exactly. He didn't quite know how to tell her, either. "Like…Toto, and your mother."

She smiled, and bought his lie. "Oh! Me too! Isn't it weird, you think? I mean, I know it's a bit odd and all but…I think it might work out fine. What do you think?"

"He loves her."

"Uh-huh, and?"

"She...loves him?"

"Uh-huh…and?"

"And…and…" he frowned and tilted his head. He didn't know what else to say. Spill the beans that Toto was proposing to Mrs. Yoshioka tomorrow night? But what fun would that be? "And…I love you more." He kissed her nose.

She let out a grunt.

"Tsk, tsk, young ladies aren't allowed to grunt. Especially not proper ones."

She snorted.

"Nor snort," he retaliated.

"Then what can I do that's me?" she asked, her eyebrows knitting together. He smiled and swirled her into his arms again. Another fast-paced song erupted over the speakers, and the student body pulsed in rhythm.

They stood as still as stones in the center, and the world rotated around them.

He caught her chin and pecked her lips. "Trust yourself."

"Haven't you said that before?" She pecked him too.

"I might have said something similar."

"On a rooftop?" Kiss.

"I believe so." Peck.

"To a dazzlingly beautiful girl with a mullet haircut—"

Peck-Kiss. "—And eyes that glittered like diamonds when she told him she had an insignificant crush on him." Kiss.

"It is quite insignificant." Kiss. Kiss.

"Quite," she agreed. He kissed her again to prove otherwise, long and tender and soft. Her lips tasted like licorice, her breath like honey. She was the most beautiful thing in the entire world.

And her name was not Louise.

* * *

When the old school bell chimed midnight, the band bade their farewell and told the students to politely "G.F.T.O." so the faculty could clean up the catastrophe of crushed cups and strewn streamers and glitter. Haru and Baron were two of the last to leave, joined by Hiromi and Tsuge.

Machida was a few paces ahead, and Baron whispered to Haru, "He's the one?"

"_Was_," Haru corrected.

Almost with ESP, the black-haired once-crush turned to Haru, his date on his arm—a fresh brunette with a small smile and glittery eyes. "Haru?" he asked, startled. His mouth went agape.

Baron cleared his throat.

"Machida, hi," Haru tugged on her date's arm, and she could sense the testosterone between them. "You look very chivalrous."

"Uh, thanks?" He was offset, and he couldn't stop looking at her. "You look…nice. That dress is pretty, you know. It helps to bring out your eyes. I didn't know they were kind'a hazel."

Haru smiled politely. "Thank you, Machida." She then nodded to his date, "Chihiro, you look lovely."

The shorter young woman blushed, twirling a nutmeg-colored ringlet through her white-gloved hand. "Thanks, Haru, but I think you outshine my little blue dress," she laughed, and gave a bright smile herself. Chihiro was a beautiful young freshman with an open face and eyes that told more than her mouth portrayed. She always laughed, and she always participated in Go Green projects the community sponsored. She also happened to be a verified vegan.

She was bold, homey, and she loved kayaking.

_Definitely not someone Machida would go for_, Haru realized, _unless because he had no one else to go with._

The thought saddened her.

But then she remembered all the times he had laughed at her tardiness, or clumsiness, and she swiftly forgot her sadness in a rush of joy. She had her date, and she had fought for him. What had Machida fought for? Love? Not quite.

Machida didn't even know what love was.

_Which is sad too, but not as sad as other things._

And then the mangy orange-haired man spoke for the first time to her, unbelieving his eyes. "Sen," Baron murmured, and Chihiro stared at him as if he'd told her something strange, and odd, and terribly exciting.

Something odd. Offsettling.

Forgotten.

"What?..." she began breathlessly.

Machida patted her hand on his arm. "Are you all right, doll?"

Chihiro set her jaw and shook her head. "No, but I'll be OK." She turned to Baron and extended her hand. "It was nice meeting with you…?"

"Baron," he kissed her outstretched hand. "Pleasure to meet you."

"You too," she replied distantly, and pulled Machida away.

Haru turned to Baron with a raised eyebrow, and waited for an explanation. When he didn't answer, she fanned her hand out airily and said, "Oh, don't worry about an explanation, Baron, I'm _super_ at reading minds."

He pursed his lips and took hold of her waving hand. "It's a long story, and I do not think I should be the one to tell it." When she trained her eyes on him, he sighed and added, "I've witnessed too many things, Haru, and I've heard too many stories. I've been too many places, as well."

"Well, when did the story take place?" she cocked her head. "Before I met you?"

He nodded.

"What was it about, could you tell me that?"

"A spirit," he confided, "and a girl. And a forgotten promise."

Haru's eyes moved to Chihiro again, and her small but waiting smile. They were stopped just inside the gym, conversing with a gaggle of Machida's fangirls. Chihiro waited patiently, and it looked like she didn't mind.

_She's waiting for something she's forgotten,_ Haru thought sadly.

She gripped Baron's hand tightly. "Like Mrs. Shizuku, once upon a time?"

"And like us."

She smiled and looked into his eyes. "Like us," she repeated, and they glided out of the gym together.

* * *

Well, here we go! Everyone strapped in for the ride?

_Continue, or No?_


	4. Remembered If Only Rivers

* * *

Oh wow, it's two weeks until Thanksgiving! Yay!

I'm not going to ramble on about how much I'm beginning to love Chihiro or anything, but I really, truly am. Why haven't I ever written a Spirited Away fanfiction? Hmm, a conundrum of life! Anywho, lemme explain about this Chihiro business for a minute and why, in fact, I put her and not, say, some random OC called Rejya. OK, so I was rewatching The Cat Returns and casually making an AMV, right? And I was watching the part where Haru takes out the trash and see's Machida walking with this girl.

And a thought struck me.

The hair.

Then I pulled up a Spirited Away picture on Google and compared them. The girl seen with Machida and Chihiro have THE SAME COLORED HAIR. So I was like, "Hmm, Ghibli, ORLY?" So that's how I introduced Chihiro into this story. And, yeah, I know The Cat Returns came before Spirited Away, but it gives me a good plothole-filling substance. And some fun!

So, let's have some fun!

* * *

Chapter 4  
_Remembering If Only Rivers  
_

Chihiro couldn't help but to smile as Haru and the man named Baron glided out of the gym. She gripped onto Machida's arm tightly as he flirted with another young woman with glittery pink lipgloss and sun-drenched blonde hair, and she found that she didn't quite care. To him, she was an arm ornament, and that was OK with her. Why she was OK with it, she didn't really know. It was an instinct, a protection.

She was waiting, and that was all that mattered.

For what, however, she couldn't tell.

"Hey, doll," Machida waved his hand in front of her face impatiently, "did you hear me?"

Chihiro snapped out of her thoughts. She gave a sweet smile. "Oh, I'm sorry. No, I didn't."

"It's alright," he replied subtly, because he was quite used to her scatterbrained nature. It was an endearing part he liked about her. "Why don't you go freshen up a bit? You look ragged. And then we'll go hit Yuki's party."

The young woman agreed and departed to the rest room. She closed the door behind her and stared at herself in the mirror. Machida always thought she looked ragged, but he didn't know that was just how she always looked. No amount of makeup could cover the hard work and callouses on her hands. That was how, in fact, they had met. On a Green Project at the local park. She always volunteered to help the community during the summer, and Machida had run into a bit of trouble and sentenced to a day of community service. They met whilst picking up garbage along a shallow river, and it was almost instant attraction.

He had stooped to get an old boot out of the shallow water, and she did the exact same. They bumped trash-arm pickers, and apologized to each other. "Oh, is this yours?" he joked, extending the waterlogged boot to her.

Chihiro had smiled, and the river burbled. She took the boot and shvoed it into her trash bag. "Thanks," she had replied. They were both knee-deep in the river, and little silver fishes were scattering around their legs.

He nudged his head back towards the rest of the volunteer party, and asked, "Hey, it's almost lunch. Would you want to have a burger with me?"

And her smile grew wider. She nodded. "I'd like that."

They got out of the river, and had meandered back to the group, talking about school and favorite music, and movies. And just sitting calmly on a green algae rock, with his knees drawn to his chest, was a young man with dark cobalt hair and seaweed eyes. He lowered his head.

Chihiro had looked back a second later.

And he was gone.

In the mirror, Chihiro was a year older, and a year taller, but no wiser. She took down her hair, wrapped the sparkling purple hair tie around her wrist, and shook her hair out. It felt good to have her scalp breath again, and she was tempted to wipe the thick layers of makeup off, but stopped short. Machida would just suggest her to reapply herself. She didn't care what she looked like, but it was mind-numbing to try and tell Machida that. He was a nice man, for sure, but not for her.

In fact, she really couldn't find anyone who_ was_ for her.

Maybe there wasn't anyone.

_Or maybe I'm not supposed to look_, she guessed, staring at her flushed reflection.

"So you're Sen."

She spun around with a gasp. A woman with hair as white as platinum stood directly behind her. Imposingly, the woman straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. She wore a beautiful deep red suit with a black purse clasped at her elbow. She cocked her head, her lush pink lips pursed into a frown. Chihiro fumbled with her purse for the mace, and all she could find was a mirror. She clasped it tightly. "What do you want?"

_Sen? Why do they keep calling me Sen?_

"So you _are_ Sen."

"No, my name is Chihiro Ogino."

"Sen," the woman persisted.

"What do you want?" Chihiro demanded.

The woman shrugged and leaned against the bathroom counter beside her. "Oh, nothing. I just recognized you, is all. From Yubaba's Bathhouse? You know, I was there too way back then. Beautiful place, wouldn't you agree? Gosh, it must've been ages ago…"

The brunette steeled her shoulders. "What do you want?" she repeated stonily. "What are you talking about?

But the woman carried on without a fuss. "…since you've seen Kohaku."

Her throat went dry. Her face lost all emotion.

Kohaku.

_Who?_

"I've heard he's been wandering the Spirit World for quite some time since you left. He occasionally comes to the rivers here...but he can never stay. Isn't that sad? But oh, how can he? His river was—"

"Listen lady, I don't know what you're on but—"

"Do you want to see him again or not?"

"Who are you talking about?"

"_Ko_-_ha_-_ku_," the woman pronounciated. "Are you deaf?"

Chihiro shook her head, dangerous confusion crossing her face. There was a thrumming in the back of her head, a sparkling shimmer of drowning water and pearl scales and seaweed-colored hair. "I don't know who that is," she murmured.

"Trust me hon," the woman hummed, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from between her breasts and tapping one out. She put it to her plush pink lips and lit it with a lighter she flicked from her bustline too, "you know him. You know him better than you remember."

The young woman slowly shook her head. "No, I don't. I'm sorry. I don't know anyone by the name of Kohaku." And she pushed past the woman in her exit.

Louise grinned, and spun around to her. "So what about that hair tie?"

Chihiro paused. She covered her wrist with the hair tie on it. She felt the threads between her fingers. _Here, use this for your hair, _an old, warm voice trinkle through the soft folds of her memory.

"You know, the purple one?" the estranged woman blew out a plume of smoke into her face.

_It's all our love put together, _the warm voice said.

The bathroom was beginning to spin. She clutched the counter tightly, and tried not to sway. Something was wrong—something was very wrong and she didn't understand it. There was nothing to the purple hair tie. It was just that—a hair tie. Her favorite.

_But why is it my favorite?_

There was a fall in her memory—a rush of panic and dread and fear. Freefalling, she realized. And drowning. And muck and grime and a very large house. She quickly did up her hair again into a messy bun. Her fingers were fumbling. "I-I'm sorry. I don't…" before she could finish her own sentence, she fled through the bathroom doors again to Machida, and looped her arm around his instead. She hung tight.

Machida was caught off-guard. "Whoa, doll, what's the matter?"

"Oh, nothing." Chihiro shrugged and tried to calm herself down. She dared not look towards the bathroom. "I'm just ready to leave. It's getting, you know, a little boring here." She tried to smile, and it must have worked because he smiled too.

"Me too," her date agreed, and they left the gym, his posse trailing in their wake. She clung tightly, and tried to push the strange woman to the edge of her mind, and still she couldn't completely forget. How did she know about the hair tie? And that name…

Kohaku…

_Haku._

She clung tighter to her date's arm, and wished the awful name away.

* * *

Louise blew a triumphant plume of smoke into the air, and tapped the ashes on the ground. "Beautiful work, no?" She told no one, and looked at her own reflection. "Yes, very beautiful."

"Just not the way we planned."

She laughed. "Who said I can't bring together a few outliers?"

Death sighed, and went to reap an epidemic in South Africa. For some odd reason, even though she was making his job harder than it should have been at his age, he didn't want to stop her. She was on a roll, and he had to admire the handiwork.

* * *

_Continue, or No?_


	5. The Pebble Waltz

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 5**  
_The Pebble Waltz_

Louise was definitely on a roll. After years of plotting—decades, perhaps—things were finally coming together. Her craftsman had made her cunning, beautiful, and deeply ingenious. Where Baron excelled at good advice, she surpassed him with a stubborn vindictiveness that made her all the more worthy to stand beside Death, admiring her own handiwork.

The night hugged them in a dark corner of Tokyo, separated but following the wrong targets. Death had to wonder why Louise flushed after the brown-headed quiet girl from the restroom. She had departed from her prom date, and was wandering down the Tokyo streets alone. Her green dress glittered, her heels echoing clips through the alleyways. She didn't look frightened despite her location, and that somehow bothered Death. Chihiro, he called to his mind. Not scheduled to die for… he pursed his lips together tightly.

Louise twittered to herself softly, a smug grin crossing her beautiful face.

Death gave her a cautious glance. "What are you giggling about?"

She opened her white Gucci purse and took out an embroidered snuffbox.

"Just say no," Death mocked.

"Hun, I don't need substance to make me feel good," she purred and opened the box to reveal three shining pebbles.

He scrunched his nose. "Rocks?"

"Oh, these aren't just rocks my dear," Louise tsked. "These are pebbles harvested from an extinct river."

"So they're river rocks?"

"Yes." And she giggled again.

He blinked. "I think you lost me."

Quick to cease her laugh, she scowled and took a grayish-green pebble out of the snuffbox. In between her first finger and thumb, the pebble sparkled peculiarly, with some sort of dust or sheen. She whorled it around in her fingers. It almost glowed. "The river was called Kohaku."

Realization hit Death like a brick wall, and he gave a horrible groan. "Oh no! Don't pull the spirit world into this—please. Yubaba hates me."

"That's not my problem."

"But I am your superior," he snapped. "And you will not—"

A cell phone began playing _I Say a Little Prayer For You_.

Chihiro sudden paused. She searched in her purse, and pulled out her cell phone. "Hello?" she answered. "Oh, hi Mom. Uh-huh, I'm on my way home…" Absently while she listened, she twirled an errant loop of brown hair around her fingers, and looked up at the sky.

"I don't see how drawing her into this makes your plan any wiser," Death whispered to his accomplice. "Ingenious, yes, but is it timely?"

Louise snapped closed the snuffbox, and curled her fingers tightly around the pebble in hand. "Fine, Mr. Dickie Downer, if you have a better suggestion, I would absolutely love to hear it, but oh—what's that I still smell? Failure. From your last exploits."

Death grimaced.

"So, while I relish in my approaching victory, can't I have a little fun?"

"With a rock?"

She rolled her eyes, "Watch and learn, you simple, simple man." With the pebble tight in her first, she pulled her Gucci onto her shoulder again, and sauntered on down the sidewalk towards the preoccupied young woman.

Chihiro was sighing, telling her Mom that she didn't want to pick up a package of lentils this late at night, when a figure clipped her shoulder. She stumbled back, startled. "Oh, I'm sorry—you!"

The beautiful woman from the bathroom gave her a long look. "Do I know you?" she finally asked, feigning obliviousness.

"From the bathroom! At the—" She was cut short by her Mom's demanding attention, and quickly lost track of her thoughts. "I'm sorry, I have to get going."

Louise held up both white-gloved hands—quite vacant and spotless—before shrugging the young woman off as a nuisance, and sauntering on her way. "Have a good night," she purred.

When Chihiro was about to bid the same, she couldn't find the woman anywhere. And her mother began screaming at her on the phone. "All right! All right!" she told the phone. "Lentils! Got it!"  
Carelessly, she flipped closed the phone and craned her head around the dark sidewalk to catch a glimpse of the woman, but she was long gone. Scrunching her nose in confusion, she agitatedly shoved her cell phone back into her purse, and heard something foreign _clink_ against it.

I hope I didn't break anything, she winced, and thought nothing else of it as bought the lentils, and brought them home to her awaiting parents. Her Mom and Dad sat around the kitchen table, drinking coffee and waiting up for her to get home. As she took off her shoes, she could feel their eyes on her, and their wonderment.

_Where's Machida?_ their eyes asked.

"He had to go home early," was her quick, and obviously fake, reply. She set the bag of lentils on the counter and made a break for her bedroom upstairs. "I'm…going to bed. Goodnight!"

"Goodnight," her parents chorused. She closed the door to her room, sighed, and slid down the door into a sitting position. She closed her eyes, memories of bathhouse dancing across her eyelids like a film projector. A bitter smile crossed her lips. They were from her dreams, they had to have been. Dreams from her childhood, so long ago. Sometimes, she liked to fool herself into believing that they were memories instead, so beautiful and lucid that they coated themselves as dreams to keep her company, so they wouldn't fade. _It would be nice_, she told herself, and blinked open her eyes again.

Out of reassurement, she took down her hair and twirled the glittering ponytail in her fingers. She liked the way it felt, and the way it sparkled as it hit the moonlight. _This was made by your friends._ Standing, she moved over to the open window, and felt the breeze finger through her hair.

Fantastical things never happened to her, she had to keep telling herself. Dreams did not come to life, and nor would they ever.

But that name, that _sound_, made her heart flutter. It felt like a key to a locked door, or a kiss to some long-forgotten enchantment.

"Kohaku," she whispered to the new spring wind. And, somehow, she knew she wasn't alone.

* * *

The last of the students and their dates spread out from the gym, gallivanting off in different directions, on foot and mopeds and limousine cars. They spread out, until only a few blotches of wilting gowns and wrinkled tuxes remained.

Hiromi caught up with her best friend halfway across the parking lot, and looped her arm into Haru's. As a pair, they looked tired and sweaty, their hair fallen and their makeup ruined, but there were these smiles on their faces that outshone the shine on their noses. The young sandy-haired best friend twirled Haru around and said in an announcer voice:

"And here we have two of the most beautiful women in all of Tokyo!"

She mimicked a roar through cupped hands, and threw her hands into the air. She swung Haru around, who threw her hands up too and took a great sweeping bow.

"Thank you, Thank you!" Haru said between bursts of giggles. "I'll be here all week!"

"But what about the after party at Chen's?" Tsuge whined, tagging along behind, and rubbing out chicken wing stain with his finger on his powder-blue tux. Beside him, Baron fished for a handkerchief in one of his inside pockets, and gave it to him. "Thanks man," Tsuge said gratefully.

"You're welcome," Baron replied, and migrated his eyes to Haru, twirling in her sparkly gown, in the lamplights on the street. He admired her, and wondered how lucky he could ever be to be with a spirit like her.

As if sensing his gaze, she twirled to a stop, and smiled back at him. He was too lucky, he realized. Much too lucky to deserve someone like her.

_ What if she finds that out too? _a voice whispered in his ear. _What if she realizes that all you're ever good for is advice?_

Baron felt his stomach go weak.

"Tsuge!" Hiromi whined, "Why are you back there? C'mon and join the party!" She reached back her hand to her boyfriend, and the black-headed boy went running. He swooped his date up in his arms and kissed her cheek, and she complained that he was getting chicken wing sauce all over her dress.

"To taste you better, 'Romi!" He kissed her again, and spun her around in the lamplight, and Haru clapped in time. Expectantly, she trailed her eyes to Baron, and held out a gloveless hand.

"Well?" she asked gleefully, "Don't keep me waiting!"

Baron stared at her outstretched hand, and the promise for when he took it. What it would lead to. What would happen, eventually. In that moment, he saw what life he had pave out before him, and circle around Haru like a ball of tangled yarn.

_Can you ever see yourself in her life? Really? _the voice pressured.

"Baron?" she faltered slightly. Hiromi and Tsuge were waltzing farther and farther away. Another moment's delay, another second of hesitation, and they would be gone.

_ Can you live up to her expectations?  
_

_ Can you?  
_

_ You'll always be a statue, even if you don't look it.  
_

But Haru loved the statue anyway, he knew.

Baron outstretched his hand too, and took hers, and pushed the small foreign voice to the corner of his mind. Like that time in the Cat Kingdom, when they danced so very elegantly before the Cat King and his servants, he waltzed her down the sidewalk, he spun her and kept hold, and forgot to let go.

And, like all those years ago, he wore a mask.

_ Who's to say you'll be what she wants ten years from now?  
_

Humans change, Baron knew, but even as a human he would not. Ever. His body would change—his hair would gray and his eyes would dull—but Baron Humbert Von Gikkigen was as unchanging as Death himself, and he couldn't bring himself to tell Haru the exact same.

And Haru, however open and trusting she had always been, would have refused to believe it anyway.

* * *

Louise hummed a tune, slow and melodic, and took Death by the arms, and waltzed him around an abandoned grocery parking lot. Her rose red lips parted, and she sang. Beautifully, whimsically—like an angel, her soft golden hair in cascades around her face.

Death tripped after her. He wasn't in such a happy mood. "How much longer until you plan works?" he asked impatiently.

"Oh, I'm not very sure," she said between her song. "A year?"

"A year?!"

"Two, perhaps?"

"Gah!"

She kissed his cheek and hummed a soft laugh. "What's your hurry? You have eternity to wait."

He frowned. "You have a point…"

"A year for you will be a second—a minute, perhaps. For me, it will be a small price in my life." She made Death spin her about, and glided into his chest. "And for Baron? A year will be an eternity."

"How are you so sure?"

Her eyes sparkled like sly rubies. "You'll just have to wait and see."

* * *

_Continue, or no?_


End file.
